Underneath The Mistletoe
by Warmwoollenmittens
Summary: My Christmas story for the advent calendar :) Georg is tormented by blue eyes and talk of mistletoe. My thanks to mucwriter for giving this a once over before publishing!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: so after my 46 chapter story I fancied writing a one shot that's more lighthearted! I find these harder to write than all the angsty ones, so I hope it's still entertaining!**

 **It's Christmas themed, so for the sake of the story, just imagine that everything happens as it does in canon, but during the festive season instead. Also, I've made the assumption that mistletoe isn't a big thing in Salzburg, since it's an English tradition, and so the children wouldn't be too familiar with it. Again, it's for the sake of the story, so humour me! :)**

 **It takes place somewhere between Edelweiss and the Ländler.**

* * *

 **Underneath the Mistletoe**

All he could do was sit back, attempt to relax, and clutch tightly at his glass of scotch while chaos ensued around him. The children were scattered in front of the tree, some on their knees, some reaching high to decorate the taller branches with endless reels of tinsel while fir needles scattered haphazardly at their feet. Their excitable chatter filled the room, and baubles, treats and various other glittery paraphernalia littered the drawing room floor. A teetering step ladder stood ominously in the corner, waiting to be used when the time came to decorate the most unreachable of branches.

Not three weeks ago, such mayhem would've sent him flying into an intolerable rage. And as it was, he couldn't quite deny that the old disciplinarian in him was tempted to launch to his feet and demand that order be restored immediately. But, unbelievable as it seemed, he found that he was actually rather enjoying his children's contagious enthusiasm. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so... happy.

An odd sense of peace had settled over the house in the last month or so, wrapping around him and warming his body from the inside out, much like Gretl's favourite comfort blanket. It puzzled him greatly - if anything he should've been feeling ill at ease. After all, his feathers had been ruffled and his nest entirely upturned by an unforeseen distraction in the form of a vivacious young postulant. A whirlwind who'd unwelcomely catapulted into his life from her unlikely hiding place at Nonnberg Abbey.

Frustrated, he let go of the breath he'd unknowingly been holding and took a much-needed swig of his scotch, welcoming the burn that slid down his throat. He should've been focusing on the children's festive joy but, in truth, his eyes kept drifting of their own accord in the direction of delightfully flushed cheeks, guileless eyes, and curves that a modest homemade dress did absolutely nothing to hide... And it was in the midst of such inappropriate musings that the subject of his attentions suddenly chose to bend over and capture a runaway bauble that had slipped from Gretl's grasp.

He swallowed hard.

Forcing his eyes away and sinking lower in his chair guiltily, he took another large slug of his scotch to calm his elevated pulse and chanced a glance at Elsa to see if she'd noticed his little _faux pas_. It was hardly his fault after all - it was simply _unfortunate_ that he happened to be looking in that particular direction when his governess had unknowingly accentuated her... attributes. She was surely far too innocent to understand her own appeal, too naive to have any idea that she'd awoken some long-dormant hormones in her employer. As his eyes fell on Elsa, he felt no such heat - only relief when he noticed she was far too engrossed in her inane chit chat with Max to give much thought as to what was going on in the rest of room.

Elsa. He'd been neglecting her yet again and he was old enough and wise enough to know exactly _why_ , for heaven's sake! The entire situation was getting rather ridiculous. Here he was, with his ship sailing steadily through clear tides for the first time in years, his relationship with his children almost completely restored, and a woman of impeccable social standing hanging off his arm awaiting an offer of marriage. Any other man in his position would've been over the moon. And yet he found himself feeling troubled. Troubled by his complete inability to stop brooding about the enigma that was Fräulein Maria.

At some point during his musings, his mutinous gaze had drifted back to the young woman in question again. Her eyes were dancing with innocent wonder as she drank in the sight of the tree, smiling broadly and nodding her approval at the youngest children's handiwork. He chuckled quietly to himself, marvelling at the way in which she could becomeso utterly enraptured by the simplest of things. With the children milling around her excitedly, she was entirely too absorbed in her task to notice what was going on around her - so much so, that she'd barely even acknowledged his presence in the room since their decorating extravaganza began. And the neglect left him feeling a rather bizarre pang of... envy?

Surely not.

Their truce a few weeks ago had led to a mismatched friendship of sorts, and with it had come an odd - though purely physical - attraction on his part that had entirely caught him by surprise. The realisation hadn't been cause for alarm however - after all, he'd been attracted to plenty of women in his lifetime and they'd all been of little consequence. He hadn't wasted any time dwelling on it. That is, until the moment his eyes had met hers, guitar in hand, as the melodic sounds of Edelweiss had filled the room around them the night of the puppet show. Everything had changed that evening, for he'd discovered a similar heat, a similar admiration, churning away in her own irises that he'd hardly dared to acknowledge.

She had unknowingly worn her heart on her sleeve for him in those moments, and with it came the shocking realisation that he was most definitely playing with fire. An unrequited attraction on his side was one thing - his bizarre desire for her was entirely harmless when he knew he could never act on it. He was, after all, a gentleman and he certainly wouldn't make it his mission to steal into her bed. But the unmistakable longing in her eyes had momentarily stripped away the illusion that she was off limits, making her appear not so untouchable after all. What was worse was the fact that, as the days had gone by, he'd found himself seeking out her heated gaze once again - chasing the strange euphoria that her admiration and approval had evoked.

But as irony would have it, she'd been avoiding him like a shrinking violet ever since that night, as though she were suddenly self-conscious in his company. And it was only now that he realised how much he actually craved her attentions - to witness her genuine smiles, to see her chin pointed in bold defiance, to fall victim to her unashamed honesty.

He couldn't help but wonder if her newfound self-consciousness was entirely his own doing. Had she somehow noticed his inappropriate interest - despite her sheltered background - and was now trying to distance herself from him? " _Well obviously, you imbecile!"_ he reprimanded himself irritably, clutching a little harder at his tumbler, " _she'd have to be blind not to catch on to the way you've been looking at her... she may be naive, but she still has eyes!"_

Lovely _blue_ ones in fact...

 _No_ , he decided firmly - the entire situation was most definitely all _her_ fault. _She_ had been the one to thrust that godforsaken guitar in his face that night and insist that he sing for everyone - all the while looking utterly captivating in swaths of flowing chiffon. And he hadn't had a moment's peace since!

He took yet another irritable swig of his drink. So disturbed was he by the riddle of blue eyes, pink blushes and full lips, that he entirely failed to notice his eldest son bounding up to him with a hopeful look in his eye. It took him even longer to register that the boy was actually asking him a question.

"Hmm..?" Georg replied lazily, pulling his gaze reluctantly from his governess. It was then that he realised his entire brood was staring at him expectantly, awaiting his response with baited breath. He froze, caught with his guard down. How long had they all been watching him, he wondered uneasily - and had they noticed what, or rather _who_ , had been distracting him?

Meeting his son's hopeful gaze once again he wracked his brains for what the boy's question might've been but, much to his chagrin, he had absolutely no idea. He'd allowed himself to slip... _again.._.

"Wh.. _what_?" He blurted stupidly, clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably in his seat in an attempt to regain some composure, "sorry Friedrich? What was that?"

He knew instantly, without having to look, that the Fräulein was now observing him too, though she would look away and blush furiously if he were to return her gaze. It was bizarre really - she could face him head on in an argument but whenever they found themselves entangled in one of their perplexing staring contests, whenever he chose to gently tease her within the margins of their newfound armistice - the boundaries of formality would blur and she would become shy, bashful, flustered, overly wary of him. Unless of course, he dared to provoke her... in which case she would forget her caution and rise defiantly to the challenge. She was so young, so innocent and naive in some respects and then she would surprise him with something so profound, so honest, so refreshing that she would appear incredibly wise beyond her years.

"Father..?"

Forcing himself to concentrate, he fixed his eyes to Friedrich's face, absolutely avoiding the temptation to glance at his governess.

"Can I put the angel on top of the tree?" the boy repeated, "I'll be especially careful!"

Pondering the request for a moment, Georg cast a weary eye towards the monstrous fir tree in the corner. It must've been at least twelve feet tall and the step ladder in the other corner looked entirely too ominous for his liking. He found himself suddenly in a quandary. If he refused the request, he'd be met with his children's immediate disappointment. But on the other hand, his refusal might be just the thing to goad the tempestuous little Fräulein out of her nervous shell...

He made up his mind immediately.

"Absolutely out of the question. You could fall and break the heirloom. Or worse, your neck!"

"Ohhhh, Captain... you _can't_ be serious!" Fräulein Maria interjected exasperatedly as if on cue. Georg smirked - as he'd suspected, she just couldn't help herself...

"I can assure you I'm deadly serious Fräulein."

"Well _deadly_ I can believe..." she muttered under her breath.

It took all his willpower not to grin gleefully at the fact that he'd successfully resuscitated her fire. Instead, he raised an amused eyebrow and she hurriedly corrected her mistake, "er... what I _mean_ to say Captain, is that Friedrich isn't a boy anymore, he can climb a ladder just fine!"

He should've been annoyed by her impertinence and yet he couldn't help the flicker of fiendish delight that her challenge evoked. Gone were her shy blushes and nervous glances, instantly replaced by the previous ferocity that was far more befitting of her character. _He wants to be a man like you but there's no one to show him how._ Her previous words about his son rang clear as a bell in his mind but still, it was far more fun to simply contradict her...

"Nevertheless Fräulein," he responded, attempting to appear nonchalant, "I think it's best for Friedrich's somewhat clumsy feet to remain firmly on the ground."

The will-o-the-wisp's only response was to roll her eyes at him, though her smile remained, serving to both irritate and... satisfy him immensely. Either way, her protests would go unheeded. In this house, his word was law - she ought to know that by now. But much to his amusement, it seemed the wayward governess was not yet willing to surrender.

 _"Sir_ ," she needled, with a hopeful Friedrich watching as though observing a particularly rapid tennis match, "if safety is your main concern, then surely it's best to leave the more laborious tasks to the _young_ men of the household..."

The small smirk that had been playing around his mouth during their thoroughly entertaining exchange rapidly disappeared and he found himself suddenly aggravated beyond measure. Did she think he was too old and decrepit to climb a blasted ladder?! He'd always considered himself an active man who worked hard to keep himself in good health and now this mere slip of a girl was indirectly drawing attention to his seniority. For reasons he hardly dared to admit, he didn't much like the thought of the energetic little Fräulein regarding him as an aged man.

"Are you implying that you think me _old_ , Fräulein?" He retorted venomously.

"Oh _no_ sir! Not _old_!" She cried in defence, "Just old _er_... than some people," she clarified bluntly, "But... young _er_ than... " she trailed off as though desperately trying to come up with a hasty answer that would satisfy him.

" _Than._.?" Was his dangerously steely response.

She pondered for a moment, then gave a hopeless little shrug, "Most trees..?"

The faint sound of giggling could be heard from his brood a few feet away, but Georg found himself far too taken aback to silence the young traitors. With a sullen scowl etching his brow and an absentminded hand wandering defensively to his greying hairline, he opened his mouth to reprimand her for her blatant audacity - but the words died on his lips when he suddenly noticed the ghost of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth as she looked away from him.

He could hardly believe it. The little spitfire was pulling his leg!

Oh ho, she knew exactly how to wind him up and she was taking the greatest pleasure in it! The realisation left him altogether impressed, aggravated, amused and - he could hardly deny it - inexcusably... _stimulated_.

 _So_ stimulated in fact, that it took only a few more seconds of her adamant coaxing for him to concede defeat over Friedrich's request. And before he could even grasp what was happening, his beaming son was thanking him profusely and ascending the ladder with Agathe's porcelain angel clutched in one hand, leaving him to silently puzzle over the unexpected turn of events. How had she done it?! He was never so easily persuaded! Shooting the enigma a dangerous glare, he noticed that her eyes were fixed on Friedrich, but her teasing smile remained. In fact, she was positively glowing with triumph. It seemed the wily fox had bested him!

"I have a marvellous idea Georg!" Elsa trilled suddenly, pulling him from his disturbing reverie. She broke away from her conversation with Max and floated effortlessly out of her seat, silently commanding the attention of the whole room, "let's _really_ fill this house with festive cheer. You simply _must_ decorate the villa with mistletoe!"

She flashed him a flirtatious smile from under her thick lashes, the implication of her suggestion quite obvious.

"O-ho, mistletoe indeed," he chuckled apprehensively, secretly hoping to laugh off the brazen request.

"What a _charming_ idea!" Max interjected gleefully, fixing Georg with a satisfied smirk. This would certainly be an interesting development.

"What's mistletoe?" Kurt wrinkled his nose in distaste, as though he already knew he wouldn't much care for the answer.

"It's a plant," Brigitta explained with enthusiasm, "in fact, it attaches itself to the branches of other plants and absorbs the water and nutrients from the host - so in theory one might even call it a parasite!"

Elsa looked entirely aghast as her face creased with unrestrained disgust. Somehow a parasite didn't quite fit in with her plans for being swept off her perfectly pedicured feet.

"Boringggg!" Was Kurt's exasperated retort, silenced immediately by a swift kick from Louisa.

"What's a parasite got to do with Christmas?" Friedrich enquired as he completed his safe descent from the ladder.

Georg heaved a heavy sigh. It was his own fault after all, that his children knew so little about the English tradition. Their knowledge of Agathe's homeland had been somewhat neglected in recent years and he made a quick mental note to remedy that fact immediately. He opened his mouth to explain the festive fable to his waiting brood but much to his surprise, the Fräulein beat him to it.

"According to legend," she began, nestling herself into a nearby chair as seven pairs of curious eyes fell on her, "the son of a god, named Baldur, was prophesied to die. His mother Frigg, the goddess of love, went to all the animals and plants of the natural world to secure an oath that they would not harm him. But Frigg neglected to consult with the unassuming mistletoe, so the scheming god Loki made an arrow from the plant and saw that it was used to kill the otherwise invincible Baldur."

Georg looked on in amusement as his brood gawped at their governess, utterly transfixed. He could hardly blame them, for he too was falling under her spell, his previous irritation dissipating as he observed her animated storytelling. In truth, it was a relief just to be given an excuse to watch her.

"But luckily, the gods were able to resurrect Baldur from the dead," she continued with a dazzling smile, "Delighted, his mother declared mistletoe as a symbol of love and vowed to plant a kiss on all those who passed beneath it. It's now an English tradition that men are allowed to steal a kiss from any woman caught standing under the mistletoe, and to refuse is viewed as bad luck!"

"How romantic!" Liesl (Liesl) gushed, clasping her hands together with glee, much to Georg's torment. The last thing he wanted was for his sixteen-year-old daughter to entertain silly ideas about parasitic plants and meddlesome telegram boys.

"And it's an English tradition?" Liesl pressed, "Did mother know of it, father?" The colour immediately drained from the girl's face and she clapped a hand over her mouth as she realised her mistake, but Georg merely smiled wistfully, attempting to put his daughter at ease. It was true that a few weeks ago the mention of their mother would've sent him into despair, but now he was greeted only with a melancholy kind of nostalgia for a love he'd once experienced.

How strange...

"It's alright Liesl," he reassured on a gentle murmur, his voice softening, "yes… she knew."

His daughter returned the smile with a relieved one of her own and it wasn't long before she and her siblings had fallen back into animated conversation amongst themselves, no doubt about the trials and tribulations of the invincible Baldur. It was then that he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that the Fräulein was looking at him curiously again. With a hint of compassion and... was it gratitude? Whatever it was, the look she was casting his way was entirely too unsettling to dwell upon. Luckily, an unsuspecting Max chose that particular moment to break the mounting tension.

"Alas, it's quite obvious who Georg will be stealing a kiss from under the mistletoe, but who is poor old uncle Max to bestow such a blessing upon?"

"You call it a blessing, I call it a curse!" Georg sneered, but the impresario ignored him.

"Perhaps Fräulein Maria might grant you the luxury?" Elsa teased with an air of calculating self-satisfaction that wasn't lost on Georg. He immediately stiffened in his seat, knowing already that he didn't much like where this conversation was going.

The governess shifted uncomfortably in her own chair, "Oh, I really don't think-"

"Ah ah ah Fräulein!" Max grinned wickedly, raising a hand to silence her, "don't be so quick to refuse me my dear," he gave a playful wink, "I wager that just one kiss from Herr Detweiler and you'll be entirely convinced that a life of chastity is not for y-"

" _Over my dead body_!"

The silence that suddenly befell the room was deafening and Georg could hear nothing but the blood roaring in his ears. All eyes landed on him and it was then that he realised, much to his horror, that the aggressive protest had torn from his own lips. He was clutching the arm of his chair so hard that his knuckles had turned white and his nails were biting into the wood. Clearing his throat and trying to ease the baffling angry lump that had formed in his windpipe, hastily he added, "er... I shan't have my scheming lodger sullying my governess when she is under my protection - no matter how much of a charming sponge you may be!"

 _My protection,_ he thought bitterly. _Ha! And who's going to protect her from_ you _, you scoundrel!_

Oblivious to Georg's discomfort, Max responded with a pout of mock offence that served to ease the previous awkwardness, "I'm not sure which part of your protest has hurt me more Georg... _scheming, sullying_... or _lodger_! I am nothing if not the perfect gentleman! And besides," he quipped, turning back to the governess, "I daresay Fräulein Maria is more than capable of holding her own!"

Much to Georg's annoyance, instead of blushing as she would have done under his own scrutiny, the governess was instead humouring Max with a guileless smile - a luxury that hadn't been bestowed on Georg in quite some time. He found it utterly maddening! Why was it that she could happily indulge the impresario's ridiculous wit and yet she couldn't bring herself to offer him the same courtesy?

"As persuasive as you are Herr Detweiler," she laughed, "and as lovely a tradition as mistletoe is, I'm afraid that trying to convince me is as fruitless a task as trying to convince the Captain to let the children sing in the festival."

 _Oh ho, she was damned clever..._

"Challenge accepted!" Max bellowed, raising his glass of scotch high in the air and shooting Georg a look of mischief before taking a victorious gulp.

"Oh Max, you really are a beast!" Elsa tittered, and mere moments later the two of them had drifted back into their own quieted conversation near the liquor cabinet, entirely oblivious to the state of turmoil they'd left the master of the house in.

All that talk of kissing and chastity and his governess... it was enough to leave Georg far too hot under the collar!

Safe in the knowledge that Elsa and Max were now otherwise occupied, he allowed his eyes to fall to the Fräulein's rosy lips from across the room. Had she ever even _been_ kissed - under the mistletoe or otherwise? At the very least she would've thought about it, he concluded - she was far too free-spirited for it to never have crossed her mind. He couldn't deny there was something quite... arousing about the notion of his young governess tucked up inside the abbey walls, restless and stimulated by sinful thoughts of clashing tongues and heated gasps...

But anymore thoughts of such a nature and his body would begin to betray him in the most conspicuous of ways, so he hastened to revert back to territory that he could safely navigate and, if he was honest with himself, could no longer resist - namely, provoking her.

He couldn't possibly fathom what made him do it - perhaps it was his perplexing need for her attention, or his desire to get the better of her after she'd tricked him - but his traitorous legs moved of their own accord and suddenly he was sitting in the chair next to her - though he made it seem like he'd moved purely to get a better look at the finished tree. No one else in the room seemed to notice his bizarre behaviour - except the Fräulein, who shifted nervously in her seat and focused on correcting a non-existence crease in her skirts.

"I had no idea you were so well versed in Norse mythology Fräulein," he teased, hoping to provoke just enough of a reaction to see the fire in her again, "I imagine such fallacies can't possibly be found in the Bible... surely it's against the principles of the Roman Catholic-"

She interrupted his chastisement with an exasperated moan and finally faced him with another roll of her eyes, "it's just a _story_ ," she said almost defensively, as though she knew deep down that a postulant ought not to be familiar with such fables, "Surely I'm allowed to be a _little_ bit curious about such things..."

He resisted the urge to ask her whether there were any other sacrilegious enjoyments she was curious about... it certainly wouldn't be the first time he found himself questioning her choice of vocation. _She was just so damned lively..._

"I love a story as much as the next person!" the Fräulein insisted, oblivious to his inappropriate imaginings, "As long as I do not believe in it, I don't see the harm."

"Hmmm.. " he smirked, "and the fact that churches actually banned the use of mistletoe as a decoration due to its historical association with paganism doesn't pose a problem for you Fräulein?"

Again he couldn't help but bait her - anything to ensure that her rediscovered vivacity would remain. But she merely frowned slightly in confusion.

"Just to keep you _informed_ ," he explained smugly, "Norse mythology stems from paganism. And the Celtic Druids of the first century were fascinated by mistletoe - they came to view it as a sacred pagan symbol of vivacity, virility, and most intriguingly... as a method of restoring fertility. Am I not right in assuming that paganism is entirely contradictory to your beliefs Fräulein?"

She merely opened and closed her mouth repeatedly like a goldfish in response to his challenge and looked away from him as though defeated, her cheeks reddening delectably at his words. But before he had a chance to congratulate himself on successfully confounding her, she rounded on him again with that ferocity he seemed to crave.

"Not _all_ churches... " she replied boldly, her defiant pout making her look altogether irresistible, "and besides, mistletoe found its way back into acceptance in Christianity _decades_ ago as a sign of love, romance and good luck. You needn't worry, I'm not about to start dancing naked around your south facing willow tree in order to ward off evil spirits!" She threw him a look of pure defiance, " _just to keep you informed_ , Captain."

It took him a few seconds to realise his mouth was hanging open. Whether it was due to her insolence or the vivid image she'd painted in his head, he wasn't entirely sure. Either way, it was dangerous territory. Hurriedly banishing her naked form from his mind, he managed to compose himself quickly and allowed a chuckle to rumble low in his chest. He couldn't deny it. He was thoroughly enjoying her impertinent sass...

"Come now Georg!" Max suddenly cried with a jovial wave of his glass, entirely interrupting his fun, "You never did give us an answer! Tell me! Will you be granting our dear Elsa's romantic request or not!"

Much to his chagrin, Georg realised his little debate with the Fräulein, though intended to be private, had at some point garnered the attention of a broader audience. For the twelfth time that afternoon he reprimanded himself for being entirely too obvious - governesses were meant to be treated with cool and detached politeness, not indirect flirtation in the corner of occupied rooms... he really was acting the idiot.

"I don't much care for such silly notions..." he grumbled, pulling himself out of his chair and moving hastily away from the governess, his fingers twitching irritably. But the unmistakable snort of derision that came from behind him made him swivel back in the Fräulein's direction so suddenly that he almost lost his balance.

"What's so funny about that?!" He demanded before he could stop himself.

She merely blinked up at him innocently.

 _"You're doing it again, for Christ sake!"_ His conscience screamed inwardly, _"Duelling with the governess in a spat akin to a lover's quarrel - and in the presence of your children, your best friend and your intended, no less!"_ He must've been completely out of his mind.

"I didn't say anything Captain..."

"You... sniggered!"

 _"Shut up you foolish man!"_ His conscious chastised again, _"Why in God's name do you even care whether she sniggered!"_ But the warnings fell on deaf ears.

"I merely cleared my throat, sir..." was her saucy reply.

He took a deep breath through gritted teeth, "and why, may I ask, did you _clear your throat_?"

She gave a sheepish little shrug while trying to disguise her obvious amusement, "well if you insist, I just... entirely agree that mistletoe wouldn't exactly be your cup of tea, sir.." she bit her lip to hide her mirth, " _love, romance and good luck_ \- as you said, a silly notion.."

He stared at her blankly, watching the knowing smile tug at her lips once more and realising that she was teasing him yet again - though she was doing her best to hide it. So not only did she think him old, but she thought him unromantic too? Was that it? He grumbled unintelligibly in response and moved grumpily to the window, trying to ignore the fact that her barb had bothered him more than it should have. He wasn't sure what was wrong with him - but he was acting like a petulant child! To allow such behaviour to continue would be entirely ludicrous. The sooner he banished the distracting little governess from his thoughts, he decided, the better.

Clearing his head and gathering what little resolve he had left, he finally turned back to Max - only to discover that the impresario had grown bored of waiting for an answer to his question and was now thoroughly engrossed in a debate with Elsa once again - all talk of mistletoe seemingly forgotten.

 _"Brilliant... just brilliant,"_ his conscience sneered at him sarcastically, as he turned back to the window and watched the snowflakes fall with a bitter scowl, _"not only have you made yourself look a complete fool, but you've managed to neglect your guests for the entirety of the afternoon because you've been too busy indulging yourself with your governess!"_

Well - at least he'd managed to dodge Elsa's mistletoe bullet..

 _"But the Fräulein called it a lovely tradition..."_ another, far more daring, voice taunted him salaciously from somewhere deep within, _"and she thinks you're unromantic... perhaps you should prove her wrong..."_

Before he had a chance to silence the ridiculous voice, he found himself wracking his brains for a florist in Salzburg that would sell the festive plant at such short notice..

He gave a violent shake of his head, abruptly dismissing the ludicrous idea and heaving another irritable sigh.

It was going to be a long Christmas.

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 **A/N: I'm not sure whether to keep this as a one shot or continue so let me know your thoughts :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I couldn't resist all your kind words so I've just had to continue this story** **There'll probably only be one more chapter or two but I hope you all enjoy this update!**

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A week had passed since Georg had been persuaded - no, _tricked!_ \- into allowing the children to decorate the Christmas tree and, much to his relief, all talk of mistletoe had seemingly been forgotten. Luck had been on his side in that respect, for Elsa had quickly abandoned her pursuit of the festive plant - but her gracious defeat had obviously come at a price. In true Elsa Shraeder fashion, she had soothed her wounded pride by making a new, more outlandish request - namely, a Christmas ball that Georg simply _had_ to host so that all of high society would be able to revel in the positively delightful implications of their soon-to-be combined wealth. It was all so sickeningly presumptuous, so ridiculously extravagant, so completely and utterly unnecessary. But he'd acquiesced, much to his own chagrin, not because of the flirtatious smiles of his intended and not because he felt he owed it to Elsa - though he probably did owe it to her, given his recent behaviour - but because of the cries of excitement from his brood.

At least, that's what he liked to tell himself...

Either way, one thing was for damned certain; his acquiescence had had absolutely _nothing_ to do with his governess. Not _this_ time. True, she had been the one to convince him when Friedrich had wanted to climb up that blasted ladder, but that didn't mean she'd had _any_ influence whatsoever on his decision about the Christmas ball. No, his answer had absolutely _nothing_ to do with the way her eyes had danced with barely-contained joy at the thought of such a grand and glorious party. It had _nothing_ to do with the knowing smile she'd sent his way as she'd watched him hopelessly trying to resist his children's pleading. It had _nothing_ to do with how utterly enchanting she'd looked at the time in the glittering shimmer of tinsel that his brood had draped around her neck during their latest game. And it most _definitely_ had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he was still yearning for that very same look of approval she so seldom bestowed upon him.

 _Who are you trying to fool old man,_ he cursed himself bitterly, drumming his fingers atop his desk in agitation, _a few more seconds of that guileless smile and you would've been ready to offer her the world.._ _  
_  
And since he'd given in to his govern- his _children's_ persuasion, Elsa had suddenly flown into hostess mode as if overnight, turning the house entirely upside down with ridiculous party plans. Several more maids than Georg ever remembered employing were constantly scurrying around the villa, flapping feather dusters in every corner and polishing every last antique vase, while delivery men were being ushered into the house every other hour with more and more extravagant dishes to add to the ever growing menu. Cleaners were being ordered to polish the chandeliers in the ballroom and hallway until they could see their own reflections and lavish Christmas decorations of various shapes and sizes were being carried through the front doors and stuffed into every corner of the lower level until Georg felt as though he might drown in glitter.

Elsa was quite evidently in her element, squawking orders and directing everyone's movements with such strict military precision that it felt as though _she_ were suddenly the captain of a ship - and Georg had found himself escaping to his study more often than not in an attempt to simply stay out of her way. And that's exactly where he was hiding now, seeking the peace of mind he so desperately needed in the solitude of his private domain.

Yes, he thought, giving a derisive roll of his eyes - with the party plans in full swing, it was indeed true that all talk of mistletoe had been forgotten. Whether he himself had been able to forget about it however, was an entirely different matter... it seemed that no amount of solitude could rid him of his tormented thoughts.

Frowning slightly and heaving an irritable sigh, he pulled open the top drawer of his desk to reveal the single sprig of mistletoe he'd hidden there a day or so ago. He wasn't quite sure what the hell he'd been thinking - he never allowed himself to behave so illogically, he never made decisions without thoroughly considering every possible consequence, he never acted on impulse unless there was good reason. It simply wasn't in his nature to be so ludicrously spontaneous. But there it was, sitting in his top drawer with its little white berries - innocent, pure and clean on the outside but dangerous and forbidden on the inside... taunting him, bating him, a constant reminder of his own insanity.

What exactly had he planned to do with the godforsaken plant once he'd bought it?! It wasn't like it'd been easy to acquire - he'd had to call in a favour with a old florist friend in Salzburg who'd had the single sprig carted in from elsewhere especially. At first, he'd told himself it was all for Elsa, but he knew damned well he was lying to himself. Then he insisted he'd done it for Liesl, since she'd been so smitten with the English tradition. But deep down he knew that wasn't strictly true either. It hadn't been Elsa's smile, nor his daughter's, that had swam in front of his eyes when he'd placed the call to the local florist.

He slammed the drawer shut with a growl of disgust and rested his elbows against the desk top, annoyed at himself for letting his iron control slip so easily. Like a needy puppy, he was finding it increasingly more difficult to disguise his interest in Fraulein Maria. He'd developed an infuriating habit of brooding about her when nobody else was around - considering what she might say or do in a number of different, increasingly unlikely situations involving the two of them, wondering what her thoughts might be on an array of irrelevant topics he took a personal interest in, pondering for long minutes over whether she could possibly taste as sweet as she looked...

It was easy enough to understand why _he_ , a hot blooded male, might find the virginal young woman appealing - his attraction was hardly cause for alarm. But admitting to himself or to anyone else that he deliberately sought her out, that he'd gone out of his way to buy her a meaningful gift, that he would search for that glimmer of desire he sometimes saw reflected back at him in her own eyes - _that_ would be completely unthinkable. It was just that she was so unblemished and pure and refreshing, a beam of light in a world full of darkness - he couldn't help but bask in the warmth of her ability to find happiness in the simplest of experiences and joy in the humblest of gestures.

Deep in thought, his eyes drifted to the top drawer again. _The humblest of gestures..._ Perhaps he _would_ give the plant to the Fraulein after all - to pass on to Liesl of course. His daughter would be over the moon and the Fraulein would surely flash him that appreciative smile that he absolutely _did not_ hunger for. What harm was there really, in a little sprig of mistletoe? Had Maria herself not said that it was a symbol of luck, after all?

Gathering his courage and noting briefly that he'd quite clearly gone mad, he launched to his feet, wrenched open the drawer and took hold of the mistletoe before marching out of the room in search of his governess.

 _Liesl,_ he reprimanded himself, _you're giving it to Liesl!_

He'd taken only three steps into the grand hallway however, before he suddenly froze in his tracks. The place was strangely empty but that wasn't what caused him to take pause. He gave a moan of astonishment as his shoulders sagged in defeat - there, hanging above the front door, clear as a midsummer's day, was a sprig of mistletoe. _What the devil?!_ His meticulous eyes quickly scanned the rest of the room, only to discover an identical sprig hanging above the mirror, another dangling from the chandelier, and yet another in the doorway to the drawing room. _Was he going completely insane?! Where the hell had it all this mistletoe come from!_ _  
_  
"Hallo!"

He gave an undignified little yelp and whirled around to find the damned Fraulein standing at the bottom of the stairs, smiling at him with that baffling air of unrepressed joy that always seemed to set his pulse racing. He should've known - of course this ridiculous charade would have something to do with his blasted governess!

"What's that you've got there?" She enquired innocently, gesturing to his hand - but he hastily hid the festive gift behind his back before she could catch a glimpse of it.

She gave a breezy laugh, "you look just like Kurt when he's been caught with a hand in the cookie jar, sir!"

Suddenly his ears were burning and he felt extremely stupid for ever having acquired the blasted mistletoe in the first place. What on earth would she think of him! A house full of mistletoe and here he was ready to present her with... _mistletoe_! For God's sake, he was no better than an errant schoolboy with a flower to give to his crush!

" _Fraulein!"_ He hissed, ignoring the colour he could feel rising in his cheeks, "what exactly is the meaning of this?!" He gestured to the sprigs hanging all around them with an agitated wave of his free hand, but she was entirely unaffected by his irritation.

"Oh, _that_.." she replied nonchalantly, "now before you go pointing the finger at me Captain, it really _wasn't_ my fault this time."

He cocked an eyebrow in cynicism.

"The children and I were having a wander around the Salzburg Christmas market this morning while Herr Detweiler and Baroness Shraeder had their garment fittings - and before I knew it Liesl had discovered an entire _stall_ of mistletoe.."

The Christmas market! Georg thought bitterly, why hadn't he considered to look there himself for goodness sake!

"She was very taken with the tale of Baldur - I do suppose _that_ part is somewhat my fault - and she was practically giddy with excitement when we neared the stand-"

" _To the point_ please Fraulein," he bristled, not knowing whether to chuckle at her endearing babbling or tear his hair out in sheer frustration.

"Yes, well, I did tell Liesl you wouldn't approve, but then Baroness Shraeder joined us and insisted we buy not one, but _several_ sprigs for the party - she said you'd um.. you'd _come around_ to the idea," she gave a sheepish little grin, "And Herr Detweiler agreed. In fact he seemed uncharacteristically keen to pay for it all-"

 _Ha!_ Georg thought as he felt his fists clench dangerously _, I'll just bet he was!_

"I didn't quite believe either of them Captain, but I didn't dare argue-"

"Now _that_ I find difficult to believe.." he drawled sarcastically, feeling his own sprig of mistletoe burning shamefully into his back.

She stuck her chin out defiantly in sudden retaliation, "I'm actually not _that_ argumentative by nature Captain, despite what you may think!"

He felt the slow and deadly smile break out across his face before he could stop it, "Oh?" He purred with mock fascination, resisting the temptation to point out that she was in fact arguing with him right now, "is that so?"

"Absolutely!" She stated proudly, "It's only when you're _wrong_ that I'm forced to argue with you!"

There is was again. Her unabashed honesty.

"But you argue with me _all the time_ Fraulein.." he gritted.

The second the words left his mouth he wished he could stuff them back in. The Fraulein could barely hide her mirthful smile as she averted her gaze from his and gave a knowing raise of her eyebrows as if to say 'well what does _that_ tell you!' - and it was then that he realised he'd fallen into her little trap. She'd done it again! Played him at his own game so that he somehow managed to make himself look like an idiot without her having to even open her mouth. He'd as good as admitted he was always in the wrong and again he was confronted with the bizarre mixture of irritation, admiration and.. arousal. _Since when had he found being contradicted so stimulating?!_

"The children are waiting in the drawing room Captain, if you'd like to join us all for hot chocolates?"

He stared at her stupidly. Was she talking about chocolate now? Between his sinful thoughts and her merciless teasing, he could hardly keep up.

" _Captain?"_

"Yes, yes, I'll.. uh.. be there in one moment," he stammered, wracking his brains for a quick and subtle way of disposing of the unexplained mistletoe he still had hidden behind his back. If he were to carry it with him it would only lead to questions he would rather die than answer and there was no way he'd be able to stuff it in one of his pockets before the little Fraulein spotted it.

"I err.. just have a quick matter to attend to in-" his military mind located the nearest door within a fraction of a second, "-the library!"

He edged sideways awkwardly, a strained smile on his face as he attempted to appear natural while keeping his back firmly fixed to the wall, lest she should spot his little gift. She watched him curiously, a concerned frown etching her brow, and he realised how utterly ridiculous he must've looked, the master of the house sneaking backwards into one of his own rooms as though he were a young boy who'd stolen a slice of cake from the kitchens.

"Captain?" She asked uncertainly, "Are you quite alright?"

"Fine, fine Fraulein!" he breezed, fumbling blindly behind him until his free hand finally made contact with the library doorknob. He could've sobbed with relief!

"I won't be a moment!" And with that, he slipped inside the library and slammed the door shut behind him, leaving the Fraulein to no doubt puzzle over his utterly ludicrous behaviour. Resting his back against the door he finally let out the breath he'd been holding and willed his heart to stop hammering.

 _You blithering idiot!_ He scolded himself, throwing his head back against the heavy wood of the door and finding comfort in the dull thud that the impact created. He hadn't felt this confounded, this uprooted, this out of his depth since - since his days as a young cadet under the scrutiny of his superiors! Never in his life had he sought anyone's approval to this extent and yet here he was, hiding in his own library because he felt ashamed of what his governess might think of the ridiculous gift he'd spontaneously bought for her.

Not for Elsa, not for Liesl, but for _her_ \- he finally admitted to himself. He'd bought the mistletoe for no one else but his Fraulein. The young woman who had kept him on his toes since the very day she'd hurtled through his front door, carpet bag and all. He'd bought it for her and her alone - because of his bizarre need to show her that he _could_ be spontaneous, that he _was_ capable of affection, that there _was_ more to him than the starched, detached aristocratic she believed him to be. The real question was _why_ he felt so compelled to demonstrate these things to her.. but he dared not explore the answer. The pathetic truth was, he just wanted to be the reason behind her smile.

Cursing angrily, he strode across the room and wrenched a random book from its place in the shelf, stuffing the godforsaken mistletoe in the gap hastily and wedging the book back in its place. He would recover and dispose of the parasitic plant later when he had more time - or at the very least he would go and hang it somewhere amongst the rest of the mistletoe so it looked as though it had come from Liesl's blasted Christmas market batch.

Leaving the library in a hurry and stepping back into the entranceway, he spotted the little Fraulein leaning casually against the drawing room doorframe, oblivious to his presence and smiling broadly as she observed something amusing the children were doing inside the room. Hidden momentarily from view, he lent against the wall behind him and allowed himself a moment to simply watch her, knowing it was futile to fight the immediate tightening he felt in his chest. She was always at her most beautiful when she thought no one was looking... her hair shining a lovely golden hue, the curve of her neck alluringly visible as she tilted her head gracefully to one side, her lithe frame surprisingly feminine for someone that he'd considered to be a tomboy at first glance. For a few glorious moments he simply allowed himself to indulged in his little fascination...

He was pulled suddenly from his trance when he noticed Max descending the stairs and he was immediately annoyed at the impresario for ruining his pleasant musings. He was about to make his presence known with a sarcastic remark or two from amidst the shadows, but instead his eyes narrowed suspiciously and he decided to hold his tongue. Why did it look very much as though his lodger was up to no good? He watched curiously, trying to guess what the impresario's game might be as Max moved towards the governess with obvious intent, a look of mischievous glee in his eyes. Instinctively, Georg stiffened against the wall, feeling a bizarre pang of protectiveness. _What on earth was the sponge plotting?_

Seeking an immediate explanation, he followed the impresario's eye-line, and it was with a surge of cold dread that he realised Max had spotted the mistletoe hanging above the unsuspecting Fraulein's head. Max's devilish grin made it immediately obvious what he planned to do and it was enough to send Georg breaking out into a panicked sweat.

As though the world was suddenly fixed in slow motion, he watched with helpless dread as his friend joined the Fraulein in the doorway, greeting her with polite pleasantries before pointing gleefully upwards to draw her attention to the mistletoe hanging above them. The Fraulein appeared to laugh off his flirtatious suggestion but he lightheartedly tapped an insistent finger against his cheek and lent towards her in encouragement. Much to Georg's abject horror, the Fraulein gave a little laugh and a roll of her eyes before she began to lean towards the offered cheek-

White hot flames of unexplainable rage suddenly erupted in the pit of Georg's stomach and before he knew what was happening, his feet were carrying him towards Max like a bull charging at a red flag. Mere seconds before the Fraulein's lips were about to make contact, Georg's hands connected with Max's back and he shoved the unsuspecting impresario into the drawing room so hard that it looked as though the poor man had been shot out of a canon, the blow sending him flying unceremoniously into the nearest armchair with a loud _"ooomph!"_ and a startled curse.

Georg heaved a sigh of blessed relief before realising that he'd succeeded only in taking Max's place under the mistletoe. _With his governess._ He gulped and felt his pulse begin to race once again as her guileless eyes bore into him with a startling mixture of embarrassment and sheer panic. He was about to apologise sheepishly and step hastily away but he found himself suddenly rooted to the spot as her gaze shifted upwards to the mistletoe above them and then dropped downwards to - he could hardly believe it - his _lips?_

Surely not, surely he'd imagined it! But there was no mistaking the blush colouring her cheeks, nor the flicker of heat in her gaze, and he felt the burn all the way down to his toes when her tongue absentmindedly darted out to paint her lower lip glossy. Transfixed, he resisted the temptation to run his thumb across it. _God_ how he wanted to take that delectable little lip between his teeth, nibble on it gently until she cried out-

"Father!" Kurt's boyish exclamation nearly jolted him out of his skin, "Come and try the hot chocolate we got with our pocket money from the Christmas market!"

 _Dear god_ , unless that hot chocolate came laced with a strong shot of whiskey he wasn't sure he was going to last the afternoon! Hastily, he tore his eyes away from his governess' lower lip and scurried into the room, taking a mug of hot chocolate from his beaming son with a forced nod of gratitude before slumping into the nearest chair and rucking a shaky hand through his hair.

He felt nothing but overwhelming gratitude when the children decided to bestow the majority of their excitable attentions upon their uncle, allowing him to slip undetected towards the liquor cabinet and pour himself a rather large serving of amber liquid. And that's exactly where Georg planned to stay, hidden in the corner like a banished degenerate, free from the scrutiny of dangerously blue eyes - at least until he could make sense of whatever the hell had just happened to him!

He took a large mouthful of the burning whiskey and gripped the liquor cabinet until his knuckles bleached. Surely, _surely_ his protective gesture towards the Fraulein could not and _should_ not be confused with jealousy? It simply wasn't in his nature to feel so... so possessive. No, no, no - he was merely protecting the innocent postulant, as he had vowed to do when the mother abbess sent her to him.

And yet he could hardly deny that Max's antics had left him feeling a strange and unfamiliar array of unwelcome emotions. Firstly, there had been that ridiculous surge of fury, a rage so strong that he'd almost rammed Max's head into the nearest piece of furniture. What had followed shortly after was a bizarre pang of protectiveness, of tenderness, that had made him want to wrap the little Fraulein in his arms and growl at anyone who dared to come near. Then there had been that astonishing moment between them beneath the mistletoe, when she'd glanced curiously at his mouth - and he'd felt as though the entire world had momentarily shifted under his feet...

 _Could_ it be jealousy? He dared himself to wonder. He'd never been the jealous type, but he supposed there was really only one way to find out... a harmless little thought experiment of some sort to test his own reaction. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and willed himself to picture what might've come to pass had he not interrupted Max's attempted mistletoe conquest. And as the Maria in his mind brushed her lips against the impresario's, he instantly felt his blood turn hot with angry revulsion. He wrenched his eyes open, hardly able to bare the mental image for much longer without wanting to ring Max's neck.

Perhaps it was only the thought of his best friend sullying his employee that sent him into a rage? He was, after all, obligated to protect her...

Desperate to prove to himself that there was nothing more to it than a formal sense of duty, he imagined another, more extreme scenario - one in which the young Fraulein was not with his best friend, but with some faceless youth - being caressed by his hands, being kissed by his lips, being worshipped by his body - and the resulting hatred he suddenly felt for this imaginary scoundrel was so intense, so overwhelming, so painfully obvious, that he had to prevent himself from throwing his glass against the wall.

It was futile to deny it. He was experienced enough in the ways of the world to know exactly what was ailing him, for God's sake.

 _Well, who'd have thought it old man,_ his conscience sneered once more, _it looks as though you're the jealous type after all._


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: FYI the landler takes place indoors in this chapter. I figured they wouldn't be out on the terrace mid-winter! Enjoy.**

* * *

The party was in full swing and even Georg himself couldn't quite mask his excitement, despite the fact that he was a somewhat reluctant host. It was his children's awestruck faces that did it, each of the little ones standing with their mouths agape, their cheeks pressed up to the banisters outside the nursery as they gazed down upon the social buzz below them. He'd given them permission to come down and mingle once all the guests had been greeted - under the watchful eye of their governess of course - and so he caught the little Fraulein's eye, giving a small nod of permission to indicate that it was time. She rewarded him with a beaming smile and that left him feeling bizarrely pleased with himself.

Not ten minutes later, his brood were making him proud, charming the guests with all the aristocratic grace expected of a von Trapp, and he chuckled to himself as he watched Kurt offer Countess Waltz and her husband a low bow. His gaze moved to his governess, who was giving his children just enough freedom to hold their own, perching a few feet away as she watched on, oblivious to the attention she was attracting from some of the younger male guests.

He gritted his teeth in distaste - he could only hope that none of his acquaintances would be so stupid as to make a sport of chasing the little Fraulein. She was dressed humbly compared to some of the ladies swanning about in their floor-length gowns, but her chaste simplicity was all part of the appeal. And if the young group of Lieutenants in the far corner of the room didn't stop staring at her soon, he was going to come dangerously close to causing a scandal at his own social event.

But the young cads were rapidly forgotten when he noticed another kind of attention being bestowed upon the Fraulein that worried him even more. Something akin to panic flickered in his chest as he saw the grey-haired Heinrich Becker, his florist friend from Salzburg, engaging the governess in conversation, gesturing animatedly to the mistletoe hanging in various corners of the hallway.

Immediately he chastised himself for inviting Heinrich - the man couldn't possibly know who the Fraulein was, or even who Georg's bizarre mistletoe request had been for - but something about the fleeting confusion on the Fraulein's face and the brief look she shot his way told him that Becker had unknowingly said something he shouldn't have. He prayed to God the Fraulein hadn't discovered his secret...

"Georg darling?" Elsa trilled suddenly in his ear, pulling him from his reverie.

"Hmm?"

"It's time to open the ball."

Yes - the ball. _Right._ He could do this. He _would_ get through tonight in one piece if it killed him.

* * *

Georg was feeling agitated - and he wasn't quite sure why. The ball was running smoothly, his guests were enchanted by the decorations and the festive fable behind the mistletoe, Elsa was on top form as usual. Everything was exactly as it should be - a ship sailing on its intended course. _So why was he feeling so restless?_

He wandered aimlessly between the guests, not really knowing what or rather _who_ he was looking for - until finally he came across his children standing in the ballroom doorways that led out to the entranceway. He frowned in confusion when he realised they were all facing _away_ from the dancefloor, something else having captured their attention outside. Suddenly curious, he went to join them, chuckling mischievously when he discovered his governess teaching his youngest son to dance, their shoes tapping out of time across the marble floor.

"One, two, three, step together. Now, step hop. Step hop. Now, under. _Ooh_ ," she laughed, "not quite!"

His smile widened, a deliciously inappropriate thought popping into his mind before he could stop it.

"This way. Hop, step, hop, and under… _Ooh.._ "

He adjusted his gloves mischievously...

 _What are you doing old man?_ His conscience sneered.

 _Having fun!_ His mind bit back.

He didn't quite know what possessed him to step closer and tap his son on the head, but when the bewildered governess flashed him a nervous smile and placed her warm hand in his gloved one, the simple truth of it suddenly seemed obvious to him: he was doing this because he _wanted_ to. And no one was going to stop Georg von Trapp from doing what he wanted.

The dance began and immediately he was impressed by her unexpected elegance, chuckling and giving a humble shake of his head in silent praise as she managed to keep up with his two left feet. She raised her eyebrows in a teasing smile, as though daring him to fault her movements and he couldn't deny that she was making the dance look effortless, twirling around him gracefully as he clapped to the rhythm of the orchestra.

Chuckling to himself again he realised it was _he_ who was trying to keep up with _her_ \- but as he reached blindly over his shoulder to take her hand, his mirth was replaced by a sudden jolt of anticipation in his chest as he remembered what was to come. Instantly he felt the heat rising in his cheeks, and when she turned into the arches of his arms, he was shocked to discover that her face bore the same intensity he felt, though she kept her eyes fixed firmly to the cross at his neck. Her face was flushed, betraying her inner turmoil, and he found he could hardly breathe from the realisation.

Suddenly the room was pulsing with a new and dangerous charge and he gripped her to him with an insatiable need as they twirled, the heat of their bodies radiating palpably between them. Suddenly her wide eyes met his and he felt them share a breath as he pulled her closer still, until there was no mistaking the beating of her heart against his own ribs.

Their lips only inches apart, his head was reeling and time seemed to stand still as their eyes bore into each other with a fierce intensity. The dance long forgotten, they stood clinging to each other as if frozen to the spot and he wondered whether his eyes portrayed the overwhelming need that was suddenly consuming him. His breath caught as her face reflected the same anguish and he realised, with a surge of elation, that she felt it too.

" _Look!"_ came Brigitta's gasp from somewhere behind them, "they're underneath the mistletoe!"

Georg didn't need to look up to know that they were stood directly beneath the chandelier from which hung one of Liesl's sprigs - but the Fraulein did, and it was with a mixture of shock and embarrassment that she slowly slipped from his arms.

"I don't remember anymore."

Brigitta stepped forward, her innocent observation a bittersweet torment, "your face is all red."

" _Is it_?!" The Fraulein cried, her hands flying to her face, "I suppose I'm not used to dancing."

He could only stare at her, dumbstruck, a million words hanging unspoken between them. But before he knew it, before he could make sense of what had come to pass underneath the mistletoe with his governess - Elsa was tugging him back into the ballroom and Maria was hurrying out of sight, seven excitable Von Trapps hot on her heels.

* * *

 _"I flit, I float, I fleetly flee, I fly.."_

Georg couldn't be prouder of his children as they sang farewell to his guests - but he had to admit to himself that he couldn't focus on a single word their melodic voices were saying. His mind was still reeling from his encounter with Maria. _Why had he done it? Why had he asked Cinderella to dance at the ball?_ He'd dared to breach the boundaries of social etiquette and what had ensued was a whirlwind of emotions he didn't dare think about. Except it was _all_ he could think about, his mind consumed with thoughts of the way she had looked at him so ernestly - as though she could hardly bare it.

This time he'd known for sure that he hadn't imagined the heat in her eyes. He chanced a brief glance at her again and spotted her hiding away behind the pillar near the stairs. Was she even aware of what had passed between them? He wondered. Did she know what her expressive face so plainly gave away?

Gretl's solo ended and the room was immediately abuzz with chatter again, the onslaught of praise from his guests leaving him immediately grateful for the distraction.

"Georg.. _Georg!"_ Came Max's insistent chant. He turned to the impresario impatiently, only to find himself face to face with the Fraulein once again.

"You're not going to let this girl get away. She has to join the party!"

"No, really, I—" she protested, but Max was having none of it, shushing her with a raise of his hand.

"Georg, please."

Feeling a headache coming on, Georg's resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in sheer frustration. He just wanted to be left alone so he could spend just one minute making sense of his racing thoughts.

"You can if you want to, Fräulein," he sighed impatiently, turning back to the welcome distraction the Eberfelds had provided. Anything to spare him the scrutiny of those deep blue eyes...

"I insist," Max pressed, "you will be _my_ dinner partner! Franz, set a seat next to mine for Fraulein Maria!"

And so it was all arranged, the Fraulein's gentle protests going completely unheeded. Georg noted briefly that she'd looked visibly uncomfortable and he realised he should've saved her from the obligation Max had bestowed on her - but his mind was too jumbled, his brain too foggy with confusion for him to form a coherent thought. If only he could escape for just five minutes to clear his head...

He shook Baron Eberfeld's hand and made to steal a subtle exit for a spot of air, but before he knew it he found himself in a heated confrontation with Herr Zeller about the Anschluss. Would there be no end to his torment tonight?

"If the Nazi's _do_ take over Austria, I have no doubt Herr Zeller that you will be the entire trumpet section!" He barked, the anger raging like a furnace in his chest.

"You flatter me captain!" Sneered the Nazi rat.

"Oh how clumsy of me! I meant to _accuse_ you!"

And with that, he turned on his heels, tampering down on the overwhelming urge to throw his fist at Zeller's face. But he knew there was more to his current frustrations than the Nazi thug who'd been allowed into his home. He was now more desperate than ever to find an escape from the turmoil raging through his veins and he knew that if he didn't find a moment to catch his breath soon, he would end up doing something entirely too impulsive.

Scanning the busy entranceway with meticulous eyes and seizing the opportunity when no one was looking his way, he slipped into the library for a moment of much needed solace. He slammed the door closed and rested his forehead against the wood, breathing hard and willing himself to find the calm he needed in his newfound solitude. His relief didn't last long however, for he suddenly heard a dull thud and an involuntary gasp from the other side of the room. Whirling around in alarm he felt his breath catch in his throat when he found the Fraulein standing timidly in front of the book case, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot and staring at him with eyes blown wide. One look at her anguished face told him that she too had come here seeking solace, clearly shaken by what had come to pass between them and the prospect of joining the party guests.

A fallen book lay splayed at her feet where it'd slipped from her hands only moments previous, and he realised with horror that it was the very same book he'd stuffed the mistletoe behind not one week ago. Sure enough, there the godforsaken sprig was, clutched between her trembling fingers - the white berries as pure as the woman who'd discovered them amongst his novel collection. His heart began kicking in his ribs.

"I... I only came in here for some reading material before...," she stammered anxiously, "I didn't mean to.. to.." she trailed off hopelessly, both of them knowing her words were a feeble lie. She'd come here to escape just as much as he had.

"You just can't resist rooms that are not meant to be disturbed can you!" He snapped defensively - suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable in light of her accidental discovery, "my library is one of them!"

But he should've known his Fraulein would be unaffected by his anger. She was looking at him curiously, in a way she never had before - as though she were seeing him for the very first time.

"This is what you... you were hiding behind your back that day isn't it.." she murmured with dawning apprehension, her innocent eyes boring into him with a growing intensity.

"That's none of your business Fraulein!" He barked, the panic beginning to constrict his chest as his feet took it upon themselves to start pacing the length of the library.

"Herr Becker told me-"

"I don't give a damn what Herr Becker told you!"

He _did_ give a damn. He gave lots of damns. Clearly Becker had done exactly what he'd feared and told the Fraulein about the peculiar order he'd received from Captain von Trapp a few weeks ago. What made him burn with curiosity however, was what the Fraulein must've thought when she'd heard Becker's unexpected anecdote. Perhaps she was too naive, too innocent to put two and two together? But one look at her expressive face served to eradicate all doubt. The game was up, he realised with devastation. She knew. _Oh God, she knew._

"I thought.. I thought you _hated_ such silly romantic notions.." she whispered in disbelief.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, suddenly flustered.

"I did! I _do_!"

"Then why would-"

His pacing came to an immediate halt and he whirled round to face her, his hands balling into fists.

"For _you_!" He shouted in frustration, watching her eyes blow wide as the turmoil raged within them once more.

"For _me_?" She rasped, dumbstruck, clutching at her stomach as though she could hardly breathe.

"Yes, damn it!" He cried, unable to bare her scrutiny, "You asked for the truth didn't you?! Well now you have it! I bought it for you!"

"I.. I don't understand," she murmured humbly, shaking her head in disbelief, " _Why_?"

" _Why?!"_ He scoffed incredulously. _Because you are wonderful, because you are beautiful, because you are extraordinary!_ He wanted to scream. Did she really have no clue?

" _Because!"_ He barked, entirely unable to form words, his chest heaving, "Because.. I.."

He trailed off hopelessly, painfully aware of her expectant eyes burning into him, awaiting his reply.

"Yes?" She goaded softly, looking so wonderfully virtuous and wholesome that he felt his frustration instantly begin to dissipate.

He heaved a heavy sigh and felt his shoulders finally sag in defeat. It was no use.

When he finally spoke again his voice was barely above a whisper, "Because I would give up a lifetime with _them_ ," he gestured to the door and the aristocratic vultures that lay behind it, "for just one more moment under the mistletoe with _you_ , my darling."

He felt, rather than heard her sharp intake of breath. A deafening silence rang through the room, the only sound the distant buzz of the oblivious party guests beyond the door, though he could hear nothing but the blood pounding in his ears. Words seemed to evade them both - a silent understanding somehow hanging thick between them that they had drifted into dangerous and uncharted waters, that the boundaries of their relationship had shifted in a way that could never be undone. Every heated glance, every accidental touch, every shared smile or heated dispute that had ever passed between them - it all came to a head in this one single moment, alone in the library with nothing between them but unbearable anticipation. Of what? He wasn't sure. All he knew was the bittersweet torment of the flames suddenly unfurling in his stomach.

Their eyes burned into one another's with such an intensity that he felt suspended in time and space. It was not his confession alone that robbed him of his ability to think, but the look she was sharing with him - an agonised expression of longing and heartache that was so transparent, so beautifully earnest, that it lay bare the secrets of her heart for him to see.

And suddenly it was so painfully obvious to him, so startling clear, so tragically bittersweet, that it hit him like a blow to the chest.

Somewhere along their chaotic whirlwind of a journey, they had _fallen in love._

He with his governess, and she with her employer. He, a retired officer of the imperial navy, currently hosting a ball for his intended - and she, a young postulant from Nonnberg Abbey, about to enter the noviciate. It was only the combination of his stubbornness and her naivety that meant they'd been too blind to see it. The irony was almost too painful to bear.

"Captain, you.. you shouldn't say such things!" she moaned helplessly, breaking the silence and shrinking further into the bookcase to escape the intensity of his gaze.

"Why not?" He retorted bitterly, running a frustrated hand through his hair, "because we both have paths already decided for us? Because it is deemed improper? Because it is considered wrong? It is nothing but the _truth_!" he breathed, feeling as though a weight was suddenly being lifted from his shoulders, "it is how I truly feel. And what's more, I know you feel it too!"

She was visibly distressed, obviously unable to accept what was quite clearly happening under her very nose. He could hardly blame her - he himself had spent weeks denying what he knew in his heart to be true.

"You know nothing of how I feel, Captain!" she bleated as she finally found her voice, some of her previous fire returning to her eyes, though she was visibly trembling.

"I know _some_ things," he replied, his voice husky in his throat, as he moved closer, "I know that you are too full of life and love and passion to spend your days in a cloister..."

She opened her mouth as if to protest again but he cut her off, taking another dangerously slow step towards her. There was no stopping the words now they'd started and they flowed freely, as if a dam had finally burst in his chest.

"I know that your heart is racing - just as mine does - at this very moment."

He took another agonising step towards her.

"I know that your body _burns_ with mine when I'm holding you in my arms."

She gave an agonised little moan as he took another step, his words clearly affecting her deeply. The realisation only made the flames burn higher in his gut.

"I know that you tremble when I draw you close, but it is not _me_ that you fear... "

With a last step he finally reached her, closing the gap between them and placing his hands against the bookcase either side of her head, encasing her in his arms while being careful not to lay a finger on her.

"I know that it tortures you as it does me..." he whispered, his voice hoarse with longing.

"I.. I _don't know what you're talking about_ ," she choked, doing everything she could to avoid his gaze, though their faces were mere inches apart.

"Twice I have failed to kiss you under the mistletoe," he continued, his mind racing, "Did you not once tell me it was bad luck?"

She looked heavenward, to the floor, to the Maria-Theresa cross at his neck - anywhere but at him.

"We.. I can't.." she breathed, "I _can't_ -"

" _One."_ He purred, pressing a languid kiss to her cheek at the corner of her mouth, revelling in her gasp of surprise and the unbearable softness of her silken skin. He could feel the warmth of her heavy pants against his face, could feel her mouth as it parted on a whimper, and it took all his willpower not to claim those open lips with his own.

" _Two."_ He rasped, the heat of her lips ghosting mere millimetres from his as he moved to the other side of her mouth and repeated his affectionate assault. He saw her eyes flutter closed and he couldn't mask his groan of longing when she suddenly shuddered against him and gasped his name. Not Captain, not sir, but _Georg_ \- the strangled sound leaving his head spinning with a surge of heady arousal.

"Oh _my darling_ ," he croaked, his fingers biting into the bookcase behind him to prevent himself from touching her body the way he desperately wanted to, "look at me.."

Her eyes flew open and his breath caught when he realised that they had darkened with desire once again, the previous fear and confusion having disappeared entirely. Without warning, and to his utter disbelief, she brought the mistletoe still clutched in her hand high above their heads, her burning eyes darting to his lips.

" _Three."_ She breathed, before ever so gently pressing her mouth to the scar below his lip. He froze. It was only the lightest, most chaste of touches - and yet somehow it was one of the most _erotic_ encounters he'd ever experienced. He shuddered violently, as their eyes met again - and before he could make sense of what was happening, the mistletoe was falling forgotten to the floor and they were throwing their arms around each other, their mouths clashing hopelessly as the room was filled with their moans of agonising relief.

Almost instantly, his mutinous hands flew to her waist, pulling her flush against him and anchoring her body to his own as his mouth moved over hers hungrily. He'd longed for this moment for weeks and now he finally had her in his arms he was loathe to allow so much as a millimetre between them. How could he have been so blind? _He loved her, by God he loved her._

The sensations were coming at him faster than he could make sense of them. Every excruciating inch of her supple body was pressed firmly against him, her thighs entangled with his own in a way that left him almost painfully aroused. Her hands were clutching fistfuls of his waistcoat as she clung to him desperately, her tongue dancing with his own as she panted into his mouth, making him lose all sense of time and place. _This_ was the ferocious Fraulein he knew and loved, the one who shouted at naval captains by the lakeside and slid down banisters in aristocratic homes and let her burning curiosity get the better of her. His heart soared, hardly able to believe that he was finally allowed to touch her, but suddenly it wasn't enough. He wanted to feel her skin beneath his fingertips.

Still kissing her feverishly, he wrenched the wretched white gloves from his hands, throwing them to the ground with an impatient growl against her lips before burying his fingers deep in her silken hair. _Oh God_ if it wasn't even softer than in his wildest fantasies. And now that his fingers were free to explore, it seemed they couldn't get at her fast enough - caressing her jaw, her cheek, her neck, her waist, until she was almost limp in his arms.

He told himself to pull away, to give her a fighting chance - but his body seemed to do the exact opposite of what his mind willed it to do, pinning her against the bookcase with his weight and taking her swollen lower lip between his teeth. She was gasping for breath, lost to her body's desires -but when her hands made their way up to his chest he half expected her to come to her senses and push him away. To his surprise she did no such thing, and instead buried her fingers under his lapels, pushing the coat from his shoulders. He shrugged out of the garment without a moment's hesitation, the medals clattering to the floor as he enveloped her in his embrace once again.

 _Just a few kisses more,_ he promised himself, _just one of two more caresses and he would put a stop to this madness._ But then his unpredictable little Fraulein, in her stirring combination of frankness and innocence, tugged his hand away from her waist and brought it to rest upon her breast.

 _Oh Jesus, you're a goner old man._

He guttoral groan tore from his throat and pulled his lips from her mouth hurriedly, resting his forehead against her own with eyes squeezed tight shut as he attempted to breathe through his startling arousal. He needed a minute to calm down before he did something he-

" _Please.. "_ she interrupted his dangerous thoughts on a throaty rasp. His eyes flew open to see a complete absence of fear reflected back at him.

"Please.." she whimpered, "touch me."

That was it. He was lost. His mind reeled as he realised she wasn't going to stop him. And he wasn't going to be able to stop himself either.

Just as he was about to tell her how much she meant to him, how his entire body burned for her, that he loved her with all his heart and craved nothing _more_ than to finally touch her - the distant and familiar trill of Elsa's laugh could be heard in the hallway beyond the door, bringing them hurtling back to an unwelcome reality. Instantly Maria stiffened in his arms, her eyes suddenly blown wide as though she'd been wrenched violently from a previous trance.

"I'm.. I'm _so sorry_!" She breathed in a panic, instantly flustered, "I.. I don't know what came over me!"

In a flash she was out of his embrace for the second time that evening and halfway across the room, leaving him with his mouth agape, utterly bewildered by her change in behaviour.

"I should go!" She cried, her hands flying to her disheveled hair, "I... I mustn't stay here!"

Something akin to panic began to rise in his chest, "Maria, wait!"

"I.. I'm so sorry Captain, I.. what you must _think_ of me.."

And with one final look of anguish, she was gone, fleeing the room and leaving him with nothing but his thundering heartbeat and godforsaken mistletoe for company.

* * *

 **A/N: this update kind of went off on a tangent and I'm not sure if I'm happy with it but I'll let you decide. Maybe it's too farfetched, who knows.**

 **Anyway -this wasn't meant to be a long story so I'm tempted to leave it here and let the canon story swoop in. But if you think this needs some kind of wrap up, let me know. I'm easily persuaded and always love to hear your thoughts!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: so I took on board your lovely reviews and realised that I of course needed to wrap this up! (No Christmas pun intended!) So here's the final chapter. Sorry it's quite long. Just a note, the conversation between Maria and the Baroness in the bedroom doesn't take place in my story. The Elsa fan club will be happy to know I've painted her as an innocent party for once. Enjoy!**

* * *

Whether it was for mere minutes or long hours that Georg remained hidden in the library, he wasn't sure - but he'd spent the majority of those ticking seconds wrestling simultaneously with his body's arousal and his mind's confusion. His first instinct had been to go haring after Maria, to catch up to her, wrap his arms around her, and beg her to listen to all the words his heart had left unsaid - even if it meant enduring the flapping tongues of the Salzburg elite after they witnessed the noble Captain Georg Ritter von Trapp frantically parting the crowd to pursue his stricken governess.

 _Propriety be damned!_ His mind shouted bitterly. So what if he tarnished his own reputation? Unbearable loss and empty grief had put things into harsh perspective for him years ago and he'd long since stopped caring about the complex and tedious intricacies of the aristocracy and the rules of social etiquette that it commanded. There was something about losing your first love and the mother of your children that made such monotony seem not only entirely irrelevant, but utterly ridiculous. Love was a sacred and beautiful thing, a blessing that once lost could tear a man apart. He should know, he'd experienced it first hand and all had seemed as good as lost. Until a young woman had stripped his mask bare, breathed life into his broken spirit and made him realise that the world around him could be vivid with colour and vibrancy once again. And he'd be damned if he was going to let his second chance at love slip through his white gloved fingers.

No, he didn't give a damn about _his_ reputation. But he did care very much about Maria's. The only thing stopping him from doing exactly what he wanted and going marching after her was his desire to protect her. From the day she'd whirled through the front door she'd had to navigate the daunting labyrinth of his complicated world, endured sneering remarks from Franz, disapproving looks from his contemporaries, even disdain from _him_ in the very beginning. No, he would not force her to endure the shameful assumptions and hurtful scorn that would undoubtedly be bestowed upon her if he were to expose them. The rumours would be bad enough when he eventually announced their betrothal - for that's exactly what he planned to do, if she would accept him. He longed for nothing more - and he would have to act cautiously, carefully, gently, discreetly - if he were to have any chance of making her his.

She may have welcomed his frantic kisses when they'd so desperately ravaged each other against the bookcase, but she had been acting entirely on impulse. Asking her to accept that they'd fallen in love would be a different matter entirely. It would mean asking her to acknowledge that her path in life was not what she had thought it was, that she was not meant to serve God's purpose. It would mean asking her to let go of the only life she'd ever known.

And it was for all of these reasons that he remained stood in his library, instead of tearing after the woman he longed to follow. To try and slip out into the hallway now would be too risky - especially after Maria had done the very same mere minutes ago. He could hear the majority of guests making their way back to the ballroom as the orchestra blossomed into another melody, but still he willed himself to wait, leaning back against the bookcase for some much needed support.

When finally the buzz of the chitchat beyond the door had subsided enough for him to feel safe, he shrugged back into his coat and chanced a quick glance in the mirror hanging over the mantelpiece. The man staring back at him made him freeze in his tracks. He hardly recognised himself - his hair was in disarray, his cheeks flushed, his lips swollen, his Maria-Theresa cross crooked, a button or two coming undone at the waistcoat - and he gave a shudder as he remembered the touch of the woman who'd reduced him to such a state. He stood for a moment, transfixed as he gazed at his reflection. It had been a long time since he'd looked so carefree, so full of vigour, so unbuttoned...

Gathering his composure and what was left of his resolve, he took a deep breath and cracked open the library door just enough to assess the state of the hallway. Seeing nothing of consequence, save for one or two group's of people who were otherwise occupied, he hastily slunk out of the room and shut the door behind him with a resounding click.

Almost instantly, he let go of the breath he'd been holding, sighing with relief. It seemed by some miracle that he'd managed to get away with-

"Fancy a smooch _my captain_?"

Georg nearly jumped out of his skin, only to find that the voice in his ear belonged to none other than Max, who stood by his side as if out of nowhere, cackling gleefully with mischief.

"Jesus Max!" He growled dangerously, "Didn't your mother ever teach you it's rude to sneak up on people?!"

The impresario gave a derisive snort, "The only thing my dear departed mother _ever_ taught me, Georg, was how to enjoy a good party!" He chirped, raising his champagne glass and taking a hearty swig, smacking his lips appreciatively, "and I'm eternally grateful to her for it!"

"Hmm," Georg bristled, entirely unamused, "unless the jokes improve Max I'll be taking back my invitation."

"You didn't invite me to your party!" The impresario scoffed, "I invited myself!"

"Naturally.."

"And I think my mistletoe idea has gone down a charm amongst the guests, wouldn't you say?" The lodger beamed with pride, rocking back triumphantly on his heels.

"Erm, _your_ mistletoe idea?" Georg drawled sarcastically.

"But of course!" Max was indignant, "I was the one who bought it after all, wasn't I?"

Georg rolled his eyes, grabbing a much needed glass of champagne from a passing tray, "well I'm sorry you went to all the trouble Max - but I'm afraid you're not really my type."

"No, I should think not," Max chuckled nonchalantly, "for one thing, I'm not wearing a wimple!"

Georg immediately began choking on his mouthful of champagne and Max, entirely unfazed by his friend's violent reaction, proceeded to thump him on the back, fixing a group of nearby ladies with an unperturbed smile.

"Bubbles went down the wrong way!" He explained loudly to the alarmed gaggle of elderly women, and Georg could do nothing but offer them an apologetic smile while he coughed and spluttered ungraciously.

" _My my_ Georg..." the impresario chuckled wickedly under his breath, waving politely to a passing Count, "was your little library interlude so good that she has you struggling for air? How positively _delicious_!"

"I don't know what you're talk-"

"Your uh.. coat is inside out."

With an undignified little yelp, Georg hurriedly corrected the fatal mistake, suddenly grateful that their backs were still to the wall - for it seemed that no one else milling around the hallway had noticed the wardrobe malfunction. Much to Georg's irritation, Max could hardly contain his glee.

"The real question is," the impresario drawled, "which garment of hers did _you_ remove?"

"That's quite enough Max!" Georg gritted, "how did you-?"

"I can be surprisingly perceptive when I'm keeping an eye on my potential protégées, Georg - with thieves like Sasha Petrie lurking about, one can never be too careful!" Max breezed matter-of-factly, his eyes constantly scanning the room for any unwanted attention, "After the Fraulein still hadn't come down to join the party I began to worry and went looking for her - only to witness her slipping out of the library undetected. At first I was baffled, but I shrugged it off - she's never quite where she's supposed to be after all!" He guffawed dangerously, "But then _who should I happen to see_ sneaking from the very same room not ten minutes later with his tail between his legs? Our gracious host no less!" He gasped with mock outrage, "Imagine my surprise..."

"It's.. it's not what it looks like.." Georg stammered, suddenly feeling uncomfortably flustered.

" _Oh-ho_ , I think it most certainly is!" Max grinned, "Who'd have thought that Captain Georg Ritter Von Trapp, decorated naval hero and experienced baron, could blush as deeply as the little Fraulein herself? I'm afraid it entirely gives you away, my friend. Now tell me," he leaned closer, his face still the perfect epitome of aristocratic sophistication to any passing witnesses, "is it Elsa for starters and Maria for dessert? Or the other way around?"

Georg flinched, his fists balling, "I plan to marry her if you must know!"

He'd wanted to shock his friend into silence with his controversial declaration but the impresario seemed entirely unruffled, studying his nails with an air of superior indifference.

"I'm afraid you'll have to clarify _which_ of your two playmates you're referring to, Georg," he smirked unforgivingly.

He felt his jaw clench with distaste, "Maria of course!" he hissed.

In a flash, all the playful mischief was gone from Max's face and he turned to fix his friend with such a dangerously stony glare that Georg felt an unexpected chill run down his spine.

"Then pull your blasted act together and fix this _damned_ mess you've created!" The impresario snapped sternly, "before you ruin two innocent women's lives!"

And with that he strode away defiantly, leaving Georg to stare after him agape, feeling every bit the chastised school boy. He'd never seen Max so serious but the brutal sting of shame he felt reminded him that he deserved far worse than the dressing down he'd just received.

"Georg _darling,_ there you are!"

Oh God.

"Elsa." He breathed, turning to face the approaching baroness with a forced smile.

"They're about to serve the entrees," she trilled, entirely too wrapped up in her duties as hostess to pay any attention to his discomfort, "would you care to escort me?"

She offered him her gloved arm and frowned slightly when he hesitated.

Max was right.. he had to do this now.

" _Elsa_... " he began, but she interrupted instantly.

"Come now Georg!" She pressed with an impatient wave of her silken hand, "it would not do well for the host and hostess to be late to their own dinner now would it!"

He sighed, taking her arm reluctantly as his heart sank.

* * *

He'd barely touched his food throughout the entire meal and though he had been surrounded by almost one hundred guests, he had felt entirely alone. Despite being Max's dinner guest, Maria had failed to make an appearance for the meal and Georg was beginning to worry. At first, he assumed she was running late, as she so often was - but each course had come and gone, until he had to accept that she was most likely hiding away in her bedroom, scared and confused. The very thought broke his heart.

Finally a few hours later, the majority of guests were beginning to take their leave as the party started drawing to a close. Only a few ladies and gentleman remained for cigars and drinks in the drawing room, and so he excused himself quietly, slipping through the door and making his way towards the stairs that led to Maria's bedroom. He knew it was inappropriate but he just couldn't help himself - he needed to see her and reassure her that everything would be okay. He'd left her alone long enough.

He was halfway up the staircase before a quiet voice from behind him stopped him in his tracks.

"How long?"

He knew before he'd even turned around that it was Elsa - and sure enough there she was, standing elegant as a painting in the centre of the entranceway, looking serene and sophisticated as ever, her hands clasped calmly in front of her and her knowing eyes boring into him with melancholy acceptance.

He stared at her mutely, his heart in his mouth.

"How long have you been in love with the governess, Georg darling?" She clarified calmly, as though her question was of no greater consequence than what he'd had for lunch.

 _Had it been so startlingly obvious to everyone but himself?_ He wondered. He wanted the ground to swallow him up - anything to prevent him from having to acknowledge the hurt in her eyes. This woman had helped him through some of the most difficult days of his life, had wrenched the bottle from his hand when he'd drank himself into oblivion, had dragged him back into the welcome bustle of the aristocratic social scene when he'd been too broken to leave his bed. Elsa had brought some meaning back into his ever darkening world. But in the end, it hadn't quite been enough. And somehow she had been rendered the victim in all of this. It seemed that love, no matter how beautiful and unexpected, didn't come without sacrifice.

It was time to face the music. Time to take responsibility for the mess he'd created. He at least owed Elsa that much.

 _Enough is enough, old man_ , his conscience demanded.

"Elsa," he sighed softly, his voice laced with the remorse he felt as their eyes locked, "I'm so sorry," he gave a slow shake of his head, trying to find the words, "It's no use... you and I... I've been dishonest, to both of us. And utterly unfair to you," he took a step closer to her, "when two people-"

"No don't," she simpered breathlessly, halting his descent, "Don't say another word, please. You see, there are _other_ things I've been thinking of, besides the party I mean," her eyes fell to the marble floor as she attempted to gather her composure. His Elsa had never been one to wear her heart on her sleeve.

"Fond as I am of you, I really don't think you're the right man for me. You're much too independent. And I need someone who needs me desperately," she offered a watery smile while still looking every bit the epitome of aristocratic perfection in her golden dress, "or at least needs my _money_ desperately!"

She was admitting defeat, he knew. She was stepping aside graciously to allow him a chance at true happiness, and the realisation made his chest ache with gratitude and remorse.

"I've enjoyed every moment we've had together and I do thank you for that," their eyes met again and he offered her the smallest of compassionate smiles, a silent acknowledgment that he would forever be in her debt for her unexpected act of kindness.

"Now, if you'll forgive me, I'm going to retire for the evening. But in the morning I shall pack my little bags and return to Vienna where I belong."

Her final smile was fleeting but genuine. How he would ever repay her he wasn't sure.

"Auf Wiedersehen, darling."

She turned on her heels and sashayed out of sight, leaving him with a heavy heart for having caused her such pain. But it had been a necessary evil, a selfish twist of fate that brought him one step closer to achieving his own happiness.

"Auf Widersehen, Elsa," he whispered.

* * *

It couldn't possibly be what he feared, surely he had to be mistaken. But there was no fooling himself this time. Maria was gone. Her room was empty. Her bags were missing. Her wardrobe was bear. _She was gone._

Wrought with panic, Georg tore the entire upper floor apart looking for her. He ran through the grounds, to the gazebo, down to the lake - no longer caring who might witness his frantic behaviour. He tried the stables, he tried the boathouse, he tried the orchard, panting for breath and ruining his tuxedo in the exertion - but she was nowhere to be found.

Throughout his lifetime, he'd suffered terrible atrocities under fire, he'd watched his comrades take their last breaths, had said goodbye to the mother of his children - but never, in all his worldly experiences could he remember ever feeling so defeated. It was just that he had come _so close_ \- he'd held Maria in his arms, had experienced the profound joy and exhilaration of kissing her, had felt the delicate caress of her fingertips - only to have her slip from his embrace out of fear and confusion.

But the worst part was knowing deep down that he was loved by her in return - only she was too terrified to acknowledge it. She was so humble that she wouldn't have considered for one minute that he would want her for any other reason than physical gratification. Stupidly, he'd gotten so carried away with her body pressed up against his that he'd failed to tell her the simple fact that he loved her. And so she had fled.

Deflated and at a loss for where else to search, he made his way back to the house - only to discover an envelope perched against one of the vases underneath a sprig of mistletoe that hung from the mirror above it. Immediately he knew it was from Maria and his heart fluttered as he wondered whether she'd picked that particular place especially.

Tearing the letter open hurriedly, grateful that his remaining guests were tucked away in the drawing room, his eyes scanned the contents and he felt his stomach churn. It contained nothing but a hurried goodbye to the children and three words scribbled at the bottom that sent a chill down his spine.

 _"I'm sorry Captain."_

The words echoed around in his head like loose stones. But if there was one thing that Georg von Trapp refused to do, it was admit defeat. Almost instantly his military sixth sense began to kick in - the very same gut instinct that had resulted in a cabinet full of honorary medals from the Emperor himself. If he knew Maria like he thought he did, she wouldn't have gone to the abbey... not after what had come to pass between them.

Pacing rapidly back and forth and muttering to himself, he counted off on his fingers the many places she had gone with the children during her time at the villa. There was Residenzplatz, the castle, the Untersburg, Hellbrunn Palace, the Mirabell Gardens...

He halted in his tracks. _The gardens._

The Salzburg Christmas market was right outside the palace on Mirabellplatz! Would she be there, he wondered, her mind swimming with forbidden thoughts of the mistletoe she'd bought there with Liesl not two weeks ago?

There was only one way to find out.

* * *

"Hallo.." he cooed softly, careful not to startle her - but she jumped anyway, launching to her feet from her perched position on the steps that sat below the palace.

"I thought I just might find you here.."

She stilled, her face contorted with anguish once again as she stared down to the bottom of the stone stairway where he stood humbly - he the undeserving mortal and she his goddess. Nightfall meant that the gardens were shrouded in darkness, the only light the pale glow of the moon and the beams from the street lamps surrounding the walled perimeter of the Mirabell Gardens. Nevertheless it was just enough to make her look like an angel.

Her timid voice, rich with rising panic, broke through the night's peaceful silence, "How.. how did you-"

"For someone so wonderfully unpredictable, you can be surprisingly transparent, if one only knows you well enough.. " he smiled warmly, a playful lilt to his voice that he hoped masked the turmoil he felt.

She said nothing, eyeing him wearily, poised like a gazelle as though ready to flee again.

"Of course I had to scale a wall or two to get in, since the gardens were locked hours ago," he continued, "but I suspected such obstacles posed little problem for my governess.."

The silence hung thick between them as they simply stared at each other, each awaiting the opponent's next move, and despite the chill of the winter night he could feel his cheeks burn as he frantically searched for the words he wanted to say. He watched patiently, trying to decipher her reaction to his unexpected presence as their staring contest continued - only to discover that her eyes had darkened with sadness and a glint of something dangerous that he'd seen before. The combination made his cool facade come crumbling down.

"Why did you run away from me?" He blurted suddenly, the playful lilt having disappeared as his voice cracked.

She looked aghast by his question, wringing her hands continuously and shifting from foot to foot under his scrutiny, though her eyes remained fixed bravely on his, "oohh please don't ask me..."she rasped, her shaking voice betraying the fear she clearly felt.

"Why not?" He pressed innocently, taking a step closer, "because you are afraid of what you feel?"

He hadn't meant for the question to sound accusatory but his words clearly hit a sore spot for she suddenly flew into a pace along the steps, throwing her hands up in the air in confusion, "Oh I don't know! I _don't know_! I.. you.. you just make me feel such _wicked_ things! I..."

"They are not wicked," he confirmed softly, "not with the way I feel about you.."

But she seemed not to have heard him, as her worrisome pacing continued.

"The only thing I _am_ sure of is that I cannot be a nun, not with the things I have come to feel.." she breathed with anguish, "but I am still a woman of God and neither can I be your.. _your_... " she closed her eyes as though the word pained her, "as much as I may long to feel you close, I cannot do it. I cannot give myself to you... not like that."

He simply looked at her pensively for a moment, hands resting on his hips and a slight frown creasing his brow as he contemplated his next move. So he'd been right - she thought she was worthy of nothing more than a sordid affair - and the realisation made him suddenly angry. Not at her, but at the restrictions of his complicated world. Did she not know what a treasure she was? Was she oblivious to the richness she had brought to his life?

Suddenly she gave an involuntary shiver as a particularly cold winter breeze whipped past them and he realised with horror that she was wearing only her burlap jacket - the one he'd entirely despised upon her arrival. Deciding that ensuring her wellbeing was well worth the risk of having her potentially cower from his sudden proximity, he shrugged out of his coat tails for the second time that evening and hurried up the steps to her side. She looked somewhat alarmed but much to his delight she accepted his warm gesture as he wrapped the coat around her and settled her into a sitting position beside him on the steps. The tense silence stretched on and she failed to meet his gaze, so instead he fixed his eyes to the gardens below, taking a deep breath and willing himself to speak.

"I _could_ take you as my mistress, Maria, if you permitted such a thing," he responded calmly, his voice quiet, "And I would keep you at a chilly distance in front of the watchful eyes of my children and contemporaries, only to slip into your bed after nightfall. I would teach you all the ways we could take comfort in one another, would worship your body with my own behind closed doors, would muffle your cries of ecstasy with my lips."

His intention had been to shock her and it worked, for the colour began to rise in her cheeks and she gave a twisted little moan that set his heart to racing, giving him the courage to surge bravely on.

"The languid time between dusk and dawn would be spent learning every freckle, every curve, every tender part of your body until we were both brought to the heights of unearthly euphoria."

He was vaguely aware that his voice had grown husky in his throat, betraying what his vivid imaginings were doing to his body. But still he pushed on, his eyes glued to the gardens surrounding them.

"I would whisk you away to secret and lavish locations to have you all to myself for long days at a time, spoiling you with fine cuisine and champagne. For many a woman it would seem a tempting offer for an easy and luxurious life..."

He gave pause before turning to face her, "But you are right Maria," he whispered with eyes burning ferociously, "you are not meant to be my mistress. I believe God has a different plan for us..."

She merely stared at him with eyes like saucers. And perhaps it was the beauty of the gardens surrounding them, or the shocking intimacies he had so vividly described, or the unmistakable longing he saw churning in her irises when their eyes finally locked - but suddenly the night air was thick with the dangerous hum of desire. He willed himself to keep a safe distance but the urge to wrap her in a heated embrace, to lose himself in her body, to taste and touch and kiss her until he could forget their turmoil, was almost too much to bear.

And within seconds they were in each other's arms once again, entangled in a searing kiss that confirmed just how deeply his words had affected them both. His entire body burned instantly and he couldn't contain the heady groan that escaped him when her sweet innocent tongue licked gently at his mouth, her lips parting to his insistent administrations until they were both breathless with need. Succumbing to his body's urges, he pulled her closer, gripping her by the waist until her every curve was his to claim. Half mad with lust, his hands moved of their own accord as they had done in the library - only this time they did not hesitate to roam wherever she silently demanded. His pulse racing and his frantic behaviour defying all logic, his fingertips danced down the exposed skin of her neck, down her collarbone, lower - her ragged pants against his lips leaving him dizzy.

No, he thought fleetingly as she whimpered into his mouth, he would never be satisfied with her only as his mistress - but oh what a mistress she would make! With the heady combination of her startling innocence, eager willingness and passionate disposition, she would bring him to his knees with a click of her fingers, he knew - and the thought left him altogether exhilarated and unbearably aroused.

But it would never be enough. Not for him. And not for her either. She was worth so much more than that.

Absentmindedly and quite without warning, her gentile hand gripped at his upper thigh to steady her against the sudden dizziness she evidently felt - and the effect on his body was both instant and shocking. He felt himself stiffen, the warmth of her hand spreading from their source all the way to his toes, setting him on fire. They had allowed themselves to get carried away in their passion once again and for the second time that night he reasoned with himself that a few moments more would do no harm - a few more forbidden caresses by her hand mere inches from where his body so boldly betrayed his thoughts - and then he would restore order.

But she beat him to it, suddenly pulling away from his embrace with a face wrought with anxiety, turning listlessly away from him, "ohh but the Baroness-"

"Is leaving for Vienna in the morning," he gasped as his chest rose and fell, "We've parted ways."

She whirled to face him once again, looking at him as though he'd sprouted a second head.

"But... but you were going to marry her!"

"I made no such promise," he retorted, frowning slightly, "But I _do_ plan to."

Suddenly she looked crestfallen, her voice barely above a whisper, "You do?"

"Yes," he nodded, "I plan to make such a vow this very night in fact. But not to her, you see.."

Suddenly struggling to breathe again, he reached out to take one of the hands she was twisting in her lap, encasing it in both of his and bringing her knuckles to his lips.

"Look at me.." he whispered, and immediately she complied, her eyes blown wide for him.

" _Maria_ ," he ghosted his fingertips down her satin cheek, "I vow to love you, to cherish you and support you... to provide for you for the rest of our days. I vow to stay by your side through thick and thin, to raise our children together, to grow old together - if you will only accept my hand and acknowledge that you are worthy of it. You _must_ know that I yearn for nothing more."

If the look she'd given him before was one of incredulity, it was nothing compared to the way she was looking at him now, her mouth agape and her reply choking from her throat.

 _"Men like you don't marry girls like me_!" She cried.

"Which is why the majority of men like me are miserable, sweetheart," he smiled sadly, "As was I, until you came along and sat on that ridiculous pine cone. I can assure you I haven't had a moments peace since."

"But.. " she repeated on a splutter, "but men like you-"

"Men like me do whatever they damn well please," He chuckled, "that is, unless vivacious little Frauleins come charging in and give them a piece of their mind!" He fixed her with a mischievous smile before his face once again became grave, "But I don't just want a piece of your mind, Maria... and neither do I just want your body. I want all of you - mind _, body and soul_ , if you'll permit me. It may make me a selfish man but I won't be able to live with any less. I want to share our love openly and without shame. Because I _do_ love you, my darling - I may have been wrong about many things over the years, but _this_ I know."

He watched her cautiously after laying his heart bare, witnessing the myriad of emotions playing out on her face. Shock, confusion, hope, curiosity, longing.. and for long painful seconds it seemed as though she was never going to acknowledge the words he'd said, but simply stare at him dumbstruck for all eternity, until he felt like shrinking away into the hedges.

He felt his heart sink, wishing he could read her fascinating mind - but he was at a loss. If she doubted him - or worse still, if she doubted _herself_ \- there would be no hope for them.

But much to his relief and overwhelming joy, the turmoil in her face eventually gave way to an earnest and unrepressed adoration that made him feel more alive than he'd felt in years - and his heart kickstarted like a drum in his chest when she dared to take his face gently in her hands, pressing a beautiful kiss to his lips that spoke of the promise they were making to one another. And he realised then that no words needed to be said, for the devotion behind her caress told him all he needed to know.

Overcome with tenderness he pulled her firmly into his embrace, giving her everything he had in the way his mouth worked in harmony with hers, in the way he peppered frantic kisses across her face, behind her ear, to the skin of her throat - until the heat of her gentle pants swirled into the cold air around them and the blood roared in his ears.

As she pulled away breathlessly, allowing their thundering heartbeats a chance to calm, he saw her eyes dancing with a newfound triumph, a surety, a confidence that hadn't been there before, "you know.. " she laughed softly, still breathless, "It was the first time you blew that silly whistle! _That's_ when I knew.."

He couldn't help the beaming smile that etched across his face.

"Knew what, sweetheart?" He already knew the answer of course, but she was yet to say the words aloud - and oh how he longed to hear them.

"That... " she faltered only for a moment, the warmth of her deep blue eyes fixed on his, "that I love you too," she smiled breathlessly, "Because I do _. I love you,_ my captain."

* * *

"Mother!" Gretl cried with triumph, thrusting a chubby finger towards a stall of festive puppets that hung on fine strings a few feet away, "oh can we get some? Please please please!"

And that's all it took for the other little ones to pipe up in excitement, their voices clashing simultaneously as each of them pleaded at once.

Georg chuckled to himself as his wife of ten months threw him an exasperated look, though a glint of amusement was still evident in her eye. Suddenly he was grateful that the Mirabellplatz Christmas market was bustling with people this year, for it meant that he could slip mischievously behind a passing crowd and feign a fascinated interest in one of the nearby wax candle stalls - a clever ploy to avoid his children's imminent tirade.

But Maria saw right through him.

"You'll have to ask your father," she retorted, shooting him a triumphant smirk - and almost immediately the children were running to him and wrapping themselves around his legs, begging him to buy the darned puppets for them.

Attempting to disguise his amusement, but failing miserably, he crouched down to their level and gave Gretl a little tap on the nose.

"Now why would you want these puppets, my darlings?" He cooed, "We have an entire puppet show at home, remember?"

He remembered all right - the day he'd sang to the woman in blue...it had been the first day of the rest of his life.

Gretl's face glowed with determination, "But _these_ puppets have sparkly-"

But alas he would never find out _which_ particular parts of the puppets were sparkly, because he and Gretl were suddenly interrupted by an ear-splitting squeal of delight that shattered his eardrums. He stood up ramrod straight in alarm, turning in sheer bewilderment to discover that the insufferable sound had come from his eldest daughter.

She was clapping gleefully and bouncing up on down on her feet, looking every bit as childish as Gretl as she pointed excitedly to another stall only a few feet away.

"Oh my goodness, _look_!" She gushed, her bright blue eyes shimmering, " _mistletoe_!"

The colour drained from Georg's face. _Oh God no - not more blasted mistletoe..._

"Oh, how _wonderfu_ l!" Maria trilled in reply, though the devilishly knowing look she shot her husband was one of pure fire, her eyebrow raised in mischief.

He gulped, suddenly feeling hot under the collar.

 _It was going to be a long Christmas._

* * *

 **A/N: Apologies for the length of this chapter, it ran away with me a little bit - but if you can't write pure fluff at this time of year when can you ey! Merry Christmas all and thank you again for all your wonderful reviews! I hope you enjoyed the story, as always I love to hear your thoughts. Thanks again to mucwriter for organising the advent calendar!**


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